A Fortune of War
by heymissallie
Summary: Edited Version. A letter of gratitude from an anonymous civilian serves as a good luck charm to the Task Force 141.


**(The action of sending a letter happened in an original story of mine, but I wanted to be creative and weave it through MW2.)**

**Soldiers are sent letter of love and gratitude – some receiving more than others. These letters happen to remind our patriotic heroes who they're fighting for. So, when the Task Force receives such a letter for the first time, it touches the hearts of trained-to-kill men and revives a sort of luck.**

The ground secured him to the ground as legs straddled him around his torso. The impact of fists pounded against Price's face continuously as the two men grunted from their brawl. With every strike, Price could feel the air within his lungs escape, causing him to wheeze in desperation. Sweat excreted from his skin as panic surged through his veins. After falling from a certain height, being placed in combat with the General and being tossed and beaten to the ground caused Price to feel disorientation to shadow through his eyes. Shepherd simply had Price at his mercy. There was no hint that Shepherd meant to leave the two men currently with him alive.

Attempting to brace himself, Price managed to see a white piece of paper being to display itself just outside of Shepherd's pocket. It was torn and tattered, obviously a result from the previous fall. Price's attention strapped to the paper caused Shepherd to strike again on his face. Through grunting struggles, Price allowed his arm to snatch the paper away from him, tossing it to the ground ahead of them, the wind allowing the document to land on lying Soap's body.

There was a sense of something leaving them. As a knife flew above his head and struck against Shepherd's eye, Price felt an overwhelming sense of relief wash over him. His back flattened across the earth, Price could feel his frightened heart drum against his chest. He inhaled and exhaled quickly, trying to allow sense and realization pang through him. Question began to plague his mind as quizzical statements of the piece of paper raced through him. Soap managed to invade his mind, subconsciously inspiring him to move towards Soap in desperation.

Pleasantly escaping with Nikolai, Price grabbed onto the paper with Soap and read its contents. Familiarity and sincerity had been scribbled across the collection of pages and immediately he recognized what it was. The troops of the 141 read the exact words - the words that somehow brought these men to their knees. With this, Price narrowed his eyes with curiosity and suspicion.

_"What the hell is he doing with this?"  
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Soldiers receive letters of gratitude from strangers, some more than others. The Task Force 141 nearly never received such letters with the exception of the occasional Christmas or birthday card, usually from family members. Therefore, it became an igniting surprise to the troops when a fully-written letter arrived to their garrison, which also resulted in the men to act in childish delight. Soap had opened the yellow envelope, tossing it to Roach as he asked – or, perhaps, demanded – him to read it. Every pair of soul-seeking eyes gazed on Roach as he began to scan the lengthy pages.

The letter had been half a dozen pages long, written by an anonymous civilian. The penmanship was distinguished to belong to a teenaged girl, considering it was loopy, but she generally noted about the gratitude she felt of such courageous service. Smiles were plastered onto the faces of the men. Regardless of the sender, the words somehow touched their hearts as easily as candy did to children.

A name was never disclosed. She did, however, spoke about her family and explaining the very little about herself in an attempt to make the 141 understand the reason of her writing. Simply to say, her father had been part of the army and served for several years. He, unfortunately, passed away in a tour during an ambush in the Middle East quite recently. Also in the letter, she mentioned within the letter about her little brother – which all of the men imagined the boy being roughly around nine – wanting to be a soldier. Her family revolved around the military life, which came back to the point of the letter being sent in the first place.

Even from her introduction, the 141 began to feel a sudden connection with this anonymous writer. At the time, Soap had looked around the members of the Task Force to nearly represent a first grade class in the middle of reading time. For whatever she wrote, something attached to them.

He could imagine Ghost knowing the feeling of emptiness by the absence of a family member. He, of all people, would know. Perhaps others could empathize. And, for roughly fifteen minutes, Roach read out loud the words and phrases of gratitude and thanks, his voice snagging on to certain areas of the letter. Although no one pointed it out, it nearly frightened the troops to think that a simple gesture - such as sending a letter - could move them so much. Her words forced them to reminisce about their own homes and their own families. For fifteen minutes, the troops were momentarily no longer killed-to-train, but just men.

It was for that reason why Roach spontaneously decided to fold the sincerely written letter and secure it within his vest. If other soldiers of armies carried out sent letter out with them to the field, then why shouldn't he? Being so young, he felt compelled to hold onto whatever sanity he could savour.

It became his little good luck charm. Surviving from running away through the favelas to living through operations, Roach found himself attached to the letter in hopes that he _was_ in something that did to protect the civilians back home. He re-read it within moments he could to search for bits and pieces to hold onto humanity while concurrently depersonalizing his self while having to take down enemy forces. It didn't seem right to leave that letter hidden under a bed somewhere. It didn't seem fair to allow it to disintegrate into dust when such thought and altruism won their hearts.

Travelling to Makarov's safe house gave Ghost and Roach enough time to read the words of reminders before another operation. Prior to landing, Roach hid the letter against his jacket - as he always did - and commenced his tasks with Ghost. He survived an ambush early on and even succeeded in gaining the DSM, despite his nervousness. Sprinting towards his goal – with Ghost by his side – Roach felt luckier than ever, mentally thanking whatever civilian genuinely cared. That had been on his mind the entire run down.

Although, in most perspectives, others could argue that Roach's luck had ended there. Shepherd's betrayal led on to the fatal attacks of Ghost and Roach. As Shepherd had lowered himself and pulled the DSM away from Roach's life-leaving body, he unintentionally retrieved the letter the Task Force so dearly loved. He had retrieved the nerve to open the collection of words, angering the dying men. Shepherd had scoffed at its _frivolous_ writing and stuffed it within his pocket, Knowing, of course, that it would be moronic not to destroy it, but the sentimental value visibly tortured whatever life was left in Ghost and Roach. Depriving them of what all they could hold onto and that was exactly what Shepherd intended.

Tossing the cigar, he not only walked away with the DSM, but Roach's little good luck charm. Ultimately, its luck continued on, even after Roach's death. Luck even attached itself to Shepherd momentarily until Price unintentionally threw it away, allowing it to tumble to Soap. The tables of luck had turned on Shepherd, and his death commenced.

Price, now clenching the letter in his hand, squeezed it between Soap's unconscious hands, delivering him something to hold on to.


End file.
